


one more cup of coffee

by impulserun



Series: Jerk Barista AU [1]
Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:25:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/pseuds/impulserun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re my jerk barista who purposely screws up my name when I order my caffeine fix AU</p>
<p>(Inspired by a prompt on tumblr. I lost the link to the post. :( )</p>
            </blockquote>





	one more cup of coffee

Octavius has had it. He has had _enough_. This? Is the _last. Straw._

“Julius Caesar?” he demands, slamming the offending cup down on the counter. “Really?”

Really, he didn’t even know why he still came here. It wasn’t like there weren’t other cafés on campus, and his students wouldn’t give a damn if he were late. Hell, his professor wouldn’t have given a damn either. For fuck’s sake, he could have walked down to the Starbucks on the corner if he wanted and made it back with time to spare.

The barista – blond, stubbled, the most hypnotic blue _no Octavius do not_ – simply offers a grin. “Problem, Octopus?”

“That’s not even the right Roman!”

“Aw, don’t go gettin’ yer knickers in a twist. Sure it is!”

“What kind of backwards, fucked up world do you live in where ‘Octavius’ is spelt ‘Julius Caesar’?”

Grimacing, he rears back, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. There are better things to lose his temper over. Like drama club rehearsals, and teachers who lose his homework, and smartass students. Better. Things.

“Whoa – hey, hang on a sec, I didn’t mean –”

“Forget it,” he bites out. “Just – forget it, okay? I have two lectures to go to and three hours’ worth of tutorials to give, and _then_ – ugh, just forget it.”

As he leaves the café in a flurry of trailing scarves (well, just the one maroon one, but scarves sounds cooler) and bitter curses, Octavius fails to notice the stricken look on his barista’s face.

*

Later that afternoon, Octavius enters his club room to find half his cast missing. Of the people left behind, Cassius has a black eye, Calphurnia a bloody lip, and a fair few of the ensemble cast have rips in their costumes. He manages to stifle a hysterical cackle. Bye bye, funding.

“What – what _happened_?”

Standing behind him, the blonde girl that AVA sent as Nick Daley’s temporary replacement – Some sort of stomach flu? The less he knows, the better – shrugs, as if to say ‘beats me’.

Ahkmenrah, too, shrugs helplessly. “From what I’ve been able to gather, our Brutus and Calphurnia got into a fight, Calphurnia broke his nose, Caesar and Cassius broke the fight up and then Brutus pulled a Carlotta.”

The actress in question – Mulan, a first-year in one of his Lit classes, the Chinese girl with the bloody lip – bristles, blood dripping from the cut on her face. “If you’d seen how the asshole was treating Jeanne, you would’ve punched him too –”

“He was a shitty actor, anyway,” Jeanne – Portia, oh god, her _robes_ – offers loyally. He has to concede the point; whatever finesse he’d displayed at his audition with Bell had somehow evaporated over the past month.

“And everyone else who disappeared?” he asks finally, eyes sweeping over the people milling about the room.

“I sent Custer and Dex to go get ice,” Ahkmenrah explains, counting off on his fingers. “When he left, Alphonse took three of his lackeys with him. That would be Thomas, Richard and Harry.”

A minor ensemble member and two of the backstage crew. Easy enough to replace. That’s fine, he decides. There are people he can call back from auditions, favours he can call in. Nothing too major.

Brutus, though. How the hell is he going to find someone to fill in for Brutus?

“Alright,” he says at last. “Everyone who’s injured, go find the first aid kit and patch yourselves up. Change out of your costumes and leave them here; today’s rehearsal is cancelled. Are any props broken?”

The props department manager shakes his head. Thank heavens for small mercies.

“Costumes, you think you can handle fixing the damage?”

The frazzled costumes team look as if they’re about to cry.

“Oh, whatever,” he mutters, glaring at nothing in particular. “Come back tomorrow, everyone – just, I don’t know. Take a break or something.”

To his credit, Octavius manages to tough it out till the room is all but empty before falling into a chair and panicking.

Crap fuckity shit fuck crap. He should have never trusted Bell, not ever; he should have known better from the day the crotchety old fart had waltzed into their room declaring himself the new teacher in charge. Of course the old shit would cast the most troublesome and problematic lead actor the club had seen in three years. _Of course_. What was he thinking? _What was he thinking?_

Presently there’s a warm hand on his back, and Ahkmenrah’s voice from a world away telling him to _breathe, Octavius, just breathe –_

He sucks in a shaky breath, holds it, counts to five, breathes out. Rinse and repeat.

Octavius nods, if a bit shakily. Okay.

He can do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Octy's shitty drama club i/c is based on miiiiiiine u_u 
> 
> I wrote most of this before dog walking au and EK(ET) so there might be places where my characterisation isn't quite as on point. I might go back and edit the fic - but my life is getting rather hectic, so it might take a while. Sorry. :(


End file.
